


Never Stand to Doubt

by Jikatabi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Background Yuri/Sponsors, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, First Time, Hasetsu, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Prostitution, Sexual Training, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21880297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jikatabi/pseuds/Jikatabi
Summary: In Hasetsu, Yuri takes Victor up on his offer to help him prepare for dealing with personal sponsorships, now that he's about to begin skating as a senior. Yuri knows he can handle it, but practice doesn't hurt, and neither does extra help when Yuuri stumbles in on them. And Yuriknowsexactly what he's getting into. He does.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2019





	Never Stand to Doubt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pleurer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/gifts).



> I'm sorry this treat is very very late! You had some great prompts that were really inspiring - I hope it's to your liking.

It's Yuri's birthday, and after spending a day at the rink training hard for his last appearance at junior Worlds, he spends the evening at Victor's apartment.

Victor's present is a new game to play on his laptop when he should be sleeping or during flights, but in Yuri's opinion, the real present is the free use of his kitchen. Not that Victor ever objects to Yuri taking it over, as long as he gets to eat something at the end of it.

It's a great kitchen to cook in – plenty of counter space, always clean, and the equipment is about all he could ask for, from nice pans to sharp knives. Yuri makes pirozhki, the recipe he learned by doing, and though it's quiet, the smell from the food makes up for it.

Mila was supposed to be here, but she got sick, and Georgi's on a date with Anya. There's a small cake to share with Victor, at least, and Yuri can't wait to stuff himself after dinner is finished.

Victor watches him from his seat at the table as he moves around the kitchen, from the fridge to the cutting board to the oven. He knows better than to offer help unless Yuri wants it; other people get in the way of his process, though sometimes he lets him or Mila help if he has too many pans to juggle. Victor's quiet, too, not chatting his ear off, at least for a while.

"You're fifteen today, right?" says Victor, as if he doesn't actually know how old Yuri is. As if it's not written on the damn cake. "Are you looking forward to your first season in seniors?"

"You know I am." He hadn't been on the podium at his first time at senior nationals this year – galling – mostly because of his stupid nerves and Yakov's stupid policy about quads. He'd almost tried his quad salchow anyway; it was only the memory of Victor's promise that kept him from it. Yuri wants that program, dammit. "Are you ready to lose your crown?"

Victor laughs. "If you think you can take it," he says, smiling over the table.

He's joking, but Yuri thinks Victor takes him at least kind of seriously, unlike some people. Victor's getting old; Yuri can see that he's starting to lose interest in his programs. He can't stay on top of the game forever. It's nice not to hear a lecture about arrogance or stamina or whatever as he turns back to the pirozhki.

He sets the last one on the sheet to rise and starts cleaning up. From behind, he can hear the soft sounds of Makkachin entering the room before she starts nosing around his knees. He shoos her away – Victor _has_ lectured him about not feeding her scraps – and goes back to scrubbing a bowl. Victor murmurs a few syrupy things to her, and then he asks, "Are you ready for the other parts of competing as a senior?"

Something constricts hard in Yuri's chest. There's things he's not really looking forward to, yeah, but he doesn't want to talk about that _now_. Maybe not ever. "Like, press and stuff? I can handle it."

Victor's silent for a moment, and Yuri prays that he can read the signal to shut up, but – no, he can't. "You know I meant sponsors."

"I can handle it," Yuri repeats, snapping and turning around. His hands drip water on the floor.

Victor just looks at him for a second, before plastering on one of his awful fake smiles. "I'm sure you can! You're tough, Yura." And then his smile slides off; he props his chin on his hand, leaning on the table. "But it can be hard when you're new. Especially if you're very young and all pretty." There's an undertone to his voice that Yuri doesn't like, and for a moment, Victor doesn't quite look at him. "Some people are into that. _Really_ into that. At least you won't hurt for funding! But you've done it before, right?"

Yuri's cheeks flush hot, and he huffs as he spins back to the sink. He hasn't. Too busy training, not interested in putting up with the bullshit people his age always seem to be entangled in, too young to catch the eyes of most of the older skaters. "I'll find someone at junior Worlds," he tells Victor's wall.

"Okay," says Victor, and thank god, he doesn't push more. "If you want advice or anything, any of us would be happy to—"

"I _get it_." The bowl is clean. The pirozhki aren't quite finished rising; Yuri resists the temptation to shove them in the oven anyway and goes to pilfer through Victor's fridge for a few minutes instead. Once the pastries are baking, he joins Victor at the table, his phone already out.

Victor doesn't bring the subject up again.

\---

Yuri, as he expected, wins junior Worlds. He does not, however, find someone to fuck him.

There's this one guy, but he doesn't respond to Yuri's tentative attempts at flirting (how is it even supposed to work? Can't he just _ask_? Some people seem to get offended). There's another who's a few years older than him and not too off-putting, but they only get as far as making out before his coach appears to drag him off. After that, Yuri gives up, too tired to try and make eyes at anyone, and goes to dance until they shut the music down.

There's not that many options left in St. Petersburg, unless he wants to try one of the hockey players. And he's not quite that desperate.

But with his rink mates gone to senior Worlds, Yuri goes over what options he has left again. He wonders if Victor really meant _advice_ or if the _or anything_ meant what he thinks it might possibly mean. Victor's a better choice than that asshole in the rival coaching group at their rink who sometimes cuts Yuri off totally on purpose. Georgi's taken, Mila's – no – and that's about it for tolerable people Yuri knows that aren't, like, his coaches.

Of course, he doesn't _need_ to sleep with anyone, but there's a heavy feeling in his stomach at the idea of going into his sponsorships unprepared. It's like the idea of skating a program without really knowing the choreography yet; it's no guarantee of success, but it sure as hell helps.

Before he even gets to a decision about whether or not to approach Victor and – what he'd say, Yuri doesn't know, but he could get the message across – Victor is gone. Following the other Yuuri – drunken stripper failure Yuuri whose only good point is his amazing step sequences – to Japan because fuck if anyone knows why.

Yakov's furious. Mila keeps texting him crazy fan reactions. Georgi is the only one at the rink who looks at peace as he practices. And Yuri? Yuri doesn't know why he thought Victor might actually remember a promise for once, but he's so upset that he starts looking up plane tickets.

Once he's in Japan, Victor does give him the program, at least. It's interesting, training with him and Yuuri – difficult, but different from Yakov, however much Victor pretends to be him.

Japan's nice, too, and the Katsukis make delicious food. Yuri tries to convey his appreciation across the language barrier by stuffing his mouth every day, and from the smiles on Hiroko's face, he thinks it works. At night, sometimes Mari brings out alcohol and Victor slips him some.

A couple days out from Victor's suddenly announced competition, they go up to Victor's room together a while after Yuuri's gone to his. Yuri appreciates the program and the coaching, but he also appreciates flopping on Victor's bed (better than the one in the closet) and getting to talk in Russian for a while. Both Yuuri and Victor are more fluent in English than he is, which is embarrassing. He can keep up, but it tires his brain out a lot.

Victor's a little tipsy, but he hasn't had that much to drink; mostly it makes him droopy and relaxed, laying on the bed with Yuri and laughing too much when Yuri growls at him. After a while, he shifts over on the covers and tugs Yuri closer. Maybe missing his dog, who's probably abandoned him for Yuuri tonight. She's taken a shine to him.

Yuri's not his cuddle toy, but it does remind him of something else he needs to get done. "So you said you had advice," he says.

Victor blinks at him, then raises his head. "What?"

"About sponsors."

It's like a light has gone out in Victor's eyes. Certainly all the looseness goes. It makes Yuri feel some kind of dread, but he needs to know. "Ah," he says, then rolls onto his side. Yuri half sits up so he's not being looked down on. "What kind of advice do you want?"

"I dunno. What's most useful?"

Victor sits up with him. "Most useful? Remember everything you've been told about PR training and sounding nice? Use that. They're paying a lot for your time. They want you to make it worth their while. Don't fight too much. Don't yell at them." He reaches out and puts a hand on Yuri's cheek. "You're cute. That helps, but even if they want you bratty, they probably won't want you spiteful. So be on the careful side."

His hand is too warm. Yuri tries to turn his face away, but Victor's hand stays. "What else?"

"Try to relax. Remember to breathe. Don't listen too much to what they say about you."

Yuri's face crinkles in confusion. "What they say?"

There's that weird tone in Victor's voice again. "Pretty. Doll. Beautiful. You're as lovely as any girl. We should dress you up next time. Wouldn't it be nice if we could keep you? Wouldn't you like that? You should always be on your knees for us, you're so pretty like that, you're such a—"

Yuri jerks his head. Victor stops. His hand creeps up onto Yuri's hair and sort of pets it, like an apology.

It's silent in the room. Yuri can't stand it. "Anything else?"

"Do you want more practical advice?" Victor asks, back to his usual serious voice, and Yuri glances at him. When did he start leaning so close? Dammit, this feels so odd.

But hey, Victor's offering, and – he thinks he doesn't want his first time to be with someone who paid for it. He's seen porn before, experimented, but watching skating and doing a free skate are completely different. Sex is probably like that too, right? He should be prepared. He wants to guarantee his success as much as possible.

So he kisses Victor first. Like he means it. Victor's fingers tangle in his hair, tugging but not that hard, and it's not so bad as Victor pushes him down to the bed.

When he pulls away from the kiss, Victor chuckles. "You're really not good at this," he says. Yuri growls and kicks him; Victor puts a finger to his lips and winks. Right. Walls made of paper. Yuri tugs him back down.

Victor tells him things between the kisses, like, "Not so hard," and, "Be less aggressive." Yuri keeps dialing it back. Victor says, in murmurs, that he doesn't need to be passive, but it feels a lot like it.

This isn't how he's used to kissing – nothing like the makeouts in hallways and behind fake plants at competitions that he's had. It's good, though. Victor's tongue is hot in his mouth but not in a choking way, and Victor's thigh worming between his own is hot in a different way, even if they're just doing this for practice.

Yuri tries to pull away for a breather, but Victor doesn't let him. So he squirms and shoves until he gets his way, even though Victor looks disapproving. Yeah, sure, he'd have to put up with it if this was for real rather than just Victor, but he only needs a second. And he only gets a second before Victor puts their mouths together again.

He doesn't know where to put his hands, so he clutches them in the back of Victors onsen shirt, while Victor runs one hand along Yuri's torso. Up to the neckline of his shirt, down towards the hem, up and back again before he finds one nipple over the fabric and oh, weird, it feels different when someone else is doing that. Feels _more_. Yuri swallows a moan at the sensation.

Then they both jerk, because the door slams open, rattling in the wooden frame. "Vic—"

Yuri doesn't have to be able to see Yuuri to hear him freezing in place when he sees them.

He shoves Victor off, heart beating a mile a minute. He doesn't know why he feels so oddly panicky – it's not like Yuuri's caught them fucking – but one glance at Yuuri shows that he looks shocked and maybe even hurt and they've been getting along better than Yuri expected this week and he doesn't like that expression for some reason. Doesn't want Yuuri to know what they were just doing.

"It's not like that," he spits out, because Victor's not saying anything.

"Um." Yuuri slowly, slowly takes a step backward, out of the room, eyes flicking between them. "I, um, I'll...."

"Yurio asked for help with how to deal with sponsors," says Victor, his voice low.

"Oh," says Yuuri, while Yuri turns and hisses at Victor. He's angry that he's spilling the reason – nobody is supposed to talk about these things and they don't know Yuuri _that_ well – and still mad about that stupid nickname. Victor, though, glances at him and then shrugs before turning back to Yuuri.

"Do you want to help?" he asks, and then both Yuri and Yuuri are boggling at him.

"I, what?" says Yuuri, pausing with one foot still raised for another step back. "Help? Huh?"

Yuri growls Victor's name, but he plows on anyway, smiling as if he's suggesting a new exercise they should do together or something innocuous like that. "It'd be better if he has more experience beforehand, right? And from more than one person. You two have been getting along so well this week, I'm sure you'd help him out a lot!"

Yuuri's mouth goes wide, and his brow furrows, and after a long, strained moment, he shifts his gaze to Yuri. "Yurio?"

Yuri knows that Victor's saying that mostly because he wants to sleep with Yuuri, and Yuuri, for whatever reason, has gone from drunkenly hanging all over him to _not_ sleeping with him. (Hence why Yuri's sleeping in a closet and not this bed.) Maybe a little to save face with him.

If this _is_ saving any face. Fuck, this is weird. Yuri doesn't know what to say. He stares back at Yuuri.

Victor's words do kind of make sense. Not everyone's going to be like Victor. Maybe it'd be easier with someone he hasn't known for so long? And Yuuri isn't ugly or anything. Not handsome in the way that makes journalists swoon over him, like Victor, but he's in shape and Yuri has (totally completely accidentally) seen his dick a few times in the hot spring and it's not bad.

They're both waiting for him to say something. Yuri shifts his weight, thinking. He imagines Yuuri shutting the door and then them having to make out even more silently than before, Yuuri on the other side of that paper wall and knowing exactly what was happening. Imagines him coming in and shutting the door behind him. Yeah, maybe that's a bit better. The idea of Yuuri trying to ignore them for the rest of the night through such a thin barrier just seems strange. "Do you _want_ to?" he asks.

"Sponsors can be difficult," Yuuri says after a moment, his gaze drifting down to the floor before he meets Yuri's eyes again. "I – if it would help?"

"I'll be fine with them," Yuri says – what is with the both of them, now, and acting like he can't take his sponsorships like everyone else? Maybe they just have to show him so he can prove it. "But yeah, it – I guess it would."

Yuuri looks at Victor. (They totally both want to fuck each other. Yuri doesn't know why they don't just do it.) Then he steps in. Closes the door behind him. "If you still need to practice, I'd rather help, if I can, I guess," he says, the words coming out slowly.

"Then get over here," Yuri tells him. Victor moves, finally, in order to flick him in the head.

And then he pulls Yuri up the bed, backwards against his chest, holding him, so they can both stare at Yuuri. Yuri feels like a present being held out, and has to fight not to squirm too much in Victor's grip.

Yuuri steps forward, hesitant, and then sits on the edge of the bed. "Are you sure?" he asks, face still concerned.

He isn't; his heart's beating wildly in his chest again. Being with Victor was already a lot, and the thought of two people is – but he can do it. It can't be harder than jumping quads. And he's sure as hell not going to look weak here. "Yeah," he says.

Yuuri reaches forward across the bed, setting his knees onto it and then crawling up to Yuri. His stomach flops at being pinned between them like this – in a good way or bad way, he's not entirely sure – and then flops again when Yuuri puts his hands on his cheeks.

Maybe Victor's bullshitting did have that grain of truth to it, because Yuuri doesn't kiss at all like Victor. It's not gentler, exactly, but it's slower, more deliberate. More shorter kisses, less sticking his tongue straight down Yuri's throat. It's – a little weirder than with Victor, because he's known Victor so much longer and his interactions with Yuuri in person consist of yelling at him, totally winning a dance battle with him, and half a week of training and getting stuck under waterfalls together.

But Yuuri's kisses aren't bad, just different. The way he runs his thumb along Yuri's jaw, the way he slowly pushes into them more and more, like this is awkward for him, too. Yuri kind of likes it. He wonders, when Yuuri parts from him for a few seconds before leaning back in, if they're making Victor jealous, and he definitely likes that idea. He can feel Victor's nails through his shirt as his hand runs up and down his chest, and then his fingers creep under the fabric.

After a while, Yuuri sits back on his heels. His cheeks are stained red, and his glasses are askew; he sets them right, losing some of his good posture as he does so.

Victor starts to push his shirt up. "Pull it up," he whispers in Yuri's ear, and Yuri frowns but goes along with it, tugging the hem up and up until Victor stops telling him to, when it's all the way up near his collarbone. Is this supposed to be sexy? Wouldn't it be better to take it off completely? This feels dumb.

But Yuuri watches him tug it up, and it's only when Yuri stops that his eyes flicker to Victor. Yuri wishes he could see his face. One of Victor's arms is still wrapped around him, but the other hand starts touching him again. The touch tickles and Yuri keeps jumping, trying not to. Victor's touching _him_ but it still feels weirdly like he's actually showing him off to Yuuri as he runs his fingers along Yuri's ribs and gropes at his chest.

Victor starts to rub his fingers around one nipple, teasing at it, and okay _why_ does that feel different than when he touches himself, better, making him arch into his hand, and Yuuri is definitely looking at him. His eyes go wider as Victor keeps at it, pressing harder and making Yuri have to bite back noises, and then Yuuri slowly reaches out to put his hands on Yuri's waist.

Yuri doesn't think he's ever had anyone stare at him quite the way Yuuri is right now. Not coaches eyeing up his talent, not judges at competitions, not rivals watching him warm up before skating. It's an intense look, and a little sad, which he doesn't get.

"What?" he asks when Yuuri keeps staring. Victor's hand keeps rubbing across his skin, bringing twists of pleasure wherever he touches, but the movement slows down.

"Oh, it's just—" Yuuri laughs, oddly, the kind of awkward laugh people use to cover up something. "I was just thinking that in the rink, you're such a strong skater so I don't really notice it, but you're still pretty young and small."

Yuri frowns at him. It's true, objectively – he's still hoping he's not one of those kids who hits puberty and grows thirty centimeters in a couple years, because that would be havoc for his jumps – but he doesn't like being reminded of it. One reason why he's looking forward to being a senior skater is so nobody can call him a junior any more. Training at the rink, none of them treat him differently because he's younger than them, and he likes it that way.

"So what?" he asks, wriggling again – this time to lean into Victor's hand, before he realizes what he's doing.

"In Russia," Yuuri says in a rush, "when you – in Japan, we don't have to start seeing sponsors before we enter our first senior competitions internationally."

It's not a question, but Victor answers it for him. "It's the same in Russia," he says over Yuri's shoulder. "You didn't do your first one until you were already eighteen, right?"

Yuuri nods. "I was a late bloomer," he says. He doesn't add that Victor was sixteen – the young phenomenon sweeping gold left and right. Yuri can suddenly picture younger Victor, the one he watched when he was a kid, long-haired and still on the small side himself. Pictures a man holding him like Yuuri is holding him now, before he banishes the image.

Yuri doesn't understand what this conversation has to do with anything, why Yuuri still has that look on his face. Sure, he's younger than either of them were, but lots of athletes start sponsorships young and he can handle it. Sixteen-year-old Victor was always smiling in interviews, and he's not _that_ great of an actor, so it's not like it can be that bad, either.

"Can we get on with it?" he demands, tired of holding his shirt up; he drops it and shoves one of Yuuri's hands up his chest instead.

Yuuri laughs again, a little more real this time, though still uncomfortable. His touch is more cautious than Victor's, and his hand is warmer. He pushes up Yuri's shirt, traces circles around the nipple that Victor's not playing with. "You're really cute," he says, his voice easier.

"I'm _not_ ," Yuri snarls. Victor chuckles, the jerk.

"Sure," Yuuri says, a laugh behind the word, and a moment later, his hand falls off of Yuri's chest, replaced in a moment with his tongue.

Yuri has to slap a hand to his mouth to keep _that_ sound from being too loud. Nobody's ever done this to him before, and it's – strange and the spit on his skin is kind of disgusting but the way Yuuri closes his mouth and sucks is amazing, so on balance it's pretty great.

He keeps his jaw clamped shut, covering his mouth and trying to look at the top of Yuuri's head. It's too difficult to keep himself from shuddering and squirming as Yuuri traces his skin with his tongue and sometimes, gently, scrapes at his nipple with his teeth.

Victor's breathing picks up. Yuri can feel it from behind him, hot on his skin. Victor shifts in place, too, and his head brushes against Yuri's, probably trying to get a better look at the things Yuuri's doing to him. It feels way better than what Victor was doing a minute ago; Yuri's hips buck up, too late for him to try and control the motion, and he feels his cheeks heat. He doesn't want to come off like a stupid teenager who doesn't know what he's doing, and he definitely doesn't want to give them any reason to get on the topic of his age again.

Yuuri pulls back at some point, even more flushed than before, letting Yuri catch his breath a little. Victor immediately pulls his shirt off for him. Then he pushes a hand down his lower torso, fingertips just sliding under the waistband of his shorts.

Victor breathes in, strongly enough that Yuri can feel the rise of his chest, then out. He bends down to kiss at Yuri's neck a couple of times, wet. For a moment, Yuri thinks he's just going to tease, or maybe try to cajole Yuuri into fucking him while Victor holds him like this, or perhaps turn him around to kiss him properly again. But instead, Victor's hand slides under the fabric and wraps around him, and Yuri has to clap his mouth shut again.

Victor's hand doesn't feel like his own – he's got the rhythm completely _wrong_ and the way he squeezes at first is almost painful – but it turns Yuri's insides into embarrassing mush and forces a strange whiny sound from his throat anyway. There's a smile in Victor's next neck kiss.

Yuri finds his eyes have closed, and he opens them to see Yuuri staring again, eyes flickering between where Victor's hand is working under his shorts and Yuri's face. He makes a soft noise and shifts on the bed. Victor's smile widens against Yuri's neck, and a moment later he lets go of Yuri – dammit – to start pulling the rest of his clothes off.

Yuuri reaches over to help strip Yuri, and Victor tells him, breathy, "He should suck you off. If you want him to? He needs to practice at it."

It shouldn't be possible for Yuuri's cheeks to redden any further, but Yuri would swear they do. He visibly swallows. Yuri pinches Victor's arm for volunteering him like that. He's not sure he wants to, even though yeah, that's probably something he should try before any sponsors jam their dicks down his throat. It's so obvious in Victor's voice that he wants to be the one on his knees before Yuuri. (Why the hell doesn't he just _ask_? It's not like Yuuri's going to turn _that_ down. Yuri saw how he acted at the banquet.)

Victor pinches him back on his inner thigh, harder. It hurts, and Yuri's rubbing at the sore skin when Yuuri says, "He should practice it. Okay."

God, he'd think he was a fragile butterfly from the way Yuuri looks at him, concerned. But he's doing just fine, whether or not he expected to blow anyone today, and he doesn't need Victor pushing him forward to get his knees under him and lean forward.

Yuuri's wearing loose shorts, but it's still obvious that he's hard as he shifts closer to Yuri and sits back. Yuri feels pleased with himself for getting that reaction from him as he reaches for his waistband, only for Yuuri to start taking the shorts off himself.

Yuri's not too surprised at what his cock looks like, after the stolen glances in the hot spring. It looks kind of long to him, but that might just be because he's bigger than Yuri. After a moment, he reaches out to touch it, and he hears a sharp intake of breath from Yuuri.

It's not that different from his own. Hard but squishy, the skin soft. Putting it in his mouth won't be that difficult. Really. People do it in porn all the time. Yuri can totally figure this out.

Yuuri grasps his hair and starts to encourage – no, push his head down. Right, his mouth has to be down there for this to work. It puts him in an awkward position, his butt sticking out in a way he doesn't like, but the only other option is to get off the bed entirely and hope the mats don't kill his knees. Then Victor puts a hand on his back and there's definitely no moving from there.

His cock looks a lot bigger from way up close. Yuri tells himself, again, that this can't be that hard, but the thought of actually going through with it seems more daunting now.

"You can use your tongue first," Yuuri tells him. Yuri tries to glance up and see his face, but his hair gets in the way.

He tries it – sticks his tongue out and touches it to the head. It jumps at the contact – Yuuri jumps – and so Yuri tries it again, this time for longer. This feels weird. Running his tongue up and down a couple of times, as far as he can reach when Yuuri's still holding his head by his hair, doesn't make it feel less weird.

The hand in his hair pushes again, and then there's another hand in it – Victor's – pushing him down. Yuuri's cock bumps against his lips, and his first instinct is to turn his head to the side. That only twists his hair, painfully. Yuri tells himself off for being ridiculous when he knows he has to do this, if not now then later with a less-patient stranger, but he still has to try twice to forcefully crank his jaw open and let Yuuri's cock slide into his mouth.

Yuuri doesn't try to make the whole thing fit – thank goodness, because it wouldn't. Yuri's mouth is already filled with it, and this feels even weirder. The weight of it pressing against his tongue, the smooth texture of it, the taste of skin and a hint of salt, the way he can't control how it slides out a bit and then presses back in. Yuuri's making more soft noises now, an 'oh' sound, a low moan Yuri can barely hear.

"He looks good like that," Victor notes, his hand sliding out of Yuri's hair and back to his spine.

"Yeah, he – he feels really good," says Yuuri, and Yuri might appreciate the breathlessness in his voice more if he could figure out what he's supposed to do now, or if he was less annoyed about them talking over him again.

He half swallows, trying to keep spit from spilling out, and Yuuri shudders at that and tugs harder on his hair. Yuuri uses the grip to keep his head relatively still, moving his cock in and out of Yuri's mouth. Yuri tries to remember something good from porn – he's not supposed to just sit here, he thinks – but it's really hard to think like this, when his pulse keeps jumping every time Yuuri fills his mouth again.

Yuuri pushes a little too far on one thrust, and Yuri gags on it. Gags again even as Yuuri pulls back more than he needs to, even though he's trying to stamp down the impulse. "Sorry, sorry," Yuuri says. "Here, let's...." He shifts in place, bringing Yuri's head more into his lap. It's a more comfortable angle, if only by a bit.

"How's he doing?" Victor asks. He's tracing Yuri's spine; Yuri imagines him watching, wonders if he's jealous again.

"Okay," Yuuri replies, adjusting his grip in Yuri's hair. "You should try using your tongue again," he says, more confident now.

What Yuri wants is for a moment's break to get some air, but he can't pull back like this, and he'll live without it. He swallows again, which Yuuri seems to like, and then tries moving his tongue against Yuuri's cock as it slides into his mouth.

He has the feeling he's not doing it right, but Yuuri keeps murmuring directions to him, and sometimes he makes those noises again, so Yuri can't be doing it all wrong. It's still not pleasant, but it's not as bad now that he's getting used to it. He hopes it's over soon, that Yuuri's stupid stamina doesn't apply in bed as well; his jaw is starting to hurt, and spit drips down his chin until he lifts a wrist to wipe it off as well as he can.

Victor mutters something that Yuri doesn't hear, and then the hand on his back disappears. Yuri doesn't pay it much mind, too intent on remembering to breathe and trying to follow what Yuuri tells him. Not until Victor comes back, wraps a hand around his hip, and starts to press two slick fingers into him.

Yuri stiffens and attempts to pull away, but there's nowhere to go to, except maybe further down on Yuuri's cock. Victor's fingers don't stop anyway, pushing further inside. "Yurio, your _teeth_ ," Yuuri admonishes in a strained voice, and Yuri realizes he's started to trying to close his mouth without realizing. He knows biting is a terrible idea, and he forces his aching jaws back open as Victor keeps pushing his fingers in.

Yuri's tried putting fingers in himself before – he's not _that_ unprepared for sponsorships – but Victor's are less slow and more forceful. It doesn't hurt, at least; it's only uncomfortable.

It makes Yuri's stomach squeeze, too, to have Victor's fingers sliding in and now out again while Yuuri keeps rocking into his mouth. He feels too full-up with both of them, and he wonders if Victor's going to fuck him like this. Pushing him back and forth between them.

But Victor keeps using his fingers – he even start to put more effort into making it feel good after a minute, making Yuri's hips shift on their own, making his back arch uncomfortably when he gets the pressure just right. It's probably nice of him. From the rumors and stories Yuri's heard, they're probably both being nicer to him than a lot of sponsors. Yuuri hasn't made him choke again, even if his jaw hurts and he'd _really_ like a break, and Victor's not doing anything to hurt him, or repeating those compliments from earlier.

The thought doesn't ease the pressure in his chest as much as it should. But if he gets through this, he'll be ready for anything the sponsors want him to do. He will.

After what feels like forever, Yuuri _finally_ says, "I'm almost there." His voice shakes as he says it, his fingers sliding in Yuri's hair.

"Do you care what he does with it?" Victor asks, and Yuri tries to make a face, though it doesn't work that well in his position.

"Oh! Um, not really. But it's – some sponsors really care about things like that. Not all of them."

"No," says Victor. "And some of them care a lot about other things. You should try to remember."

"I had this one who – who really didn't like glasses. So I always had to take them off before – before I saw him."

"Did you ever have one who always wanted you to wear your competition badges so he could pretend he was fucking you backstage?"

Yuuri makes what Yuri thinks is a negative sound, at least until the grip on his hair tightens painfully and Yuuri's dick shoves into his mouth more forcefully than before. Yuri gets enough breath, but it's a struggle, and he has to fight for it.

And then Yuuri shudders in his mouth and it's suddenly full of come and Yuri decides immediately that he does _not_ like it, not the taste or the way it seems to fill his mouth in a different way.

As soon as Yuuri lets him, he yanks away from his grip, then jerks away from Victor and rushes off the bed for the box of tissues on the other side of the room. It takes a moment to finish spitting it all out, and meanwhile, Victor is laughing into a pillow. Yuri glares at him over his crumpled tissue, but Victor just laughs harder. Yuuri isn't laughing; his expression looks caught somewhere between mortification and amusement.

"Do it more elegantly than that with a sponsor," Victor tells him, still laughing. Yuri scowls his way, and Victor shakes his head but holds out a hand. "Come on, it's not _that_ bad."

Sure, now that it's out of his mouth. He doesn't look forward to having to swallow it for some picky sponsor, ugh. Still, he tosses the tissue and lets Victor drag him back onto the bed.

It feels like he's already been through a lot, and he's still hard and Victor hasn't fucked him yet. It can't be worse than skating full-out in a free program, though. He's not that tired.

Victor nuzzles into his neck and kisses it again, and then his ears and his collarbone. It's annoying but he lets Victor do it anyway. More practice. The attention, at least, is kind of pleasant.

When Victor pulls him up the bed, towards the headboard, Yuri goes with it. Victor's still mostly in his onsen outfit – though the top is threatening to fall off his shoulders – and this time Yuri undoes the fastening for the bottoms while Victor puts his hands on his waist and pulls him into his lap, his intentions clear.

His cock's all red, pretty close to the same size as Yuuri's. Yuri wraps a hand around it and feels a little thrill at the way Victor bites his lip and looks at him through his eyelashes. Victor doesn't get real around a lot of people, and it's satisfying to know that he's one of them.

Yuri's less excited to have his dick inside of him. He knows that it will fit, but it kind of looks like it shouldn't, even though it's not actually _that_ big. Probably won't even hurt. Victor's not trying to hurt him.

Victor doesn't give him the choice of dithering about it, either way. He tugs Yuri closer, up onto his knees. "Come here," he murmurs, and then there's another set of hands on his waist as well. Yuri doesn't need the support of two people holding him, and he rolls his eyes at the way Victor practically flutters his eyelashes at Yuuri over his shoulder.

He – maybe both of them – pulls Yuri down, guiding himself in. Yuri closes his eyes and scratches his nails into Victor's shoulders, already feeling like it's enough when he's barely in. But Victor just keeps tugging him down and breathing harder, pulling Yuri onto him, until his knees bend and he sinks down like Victor wants, until their hips are fit together.

The stretch is too much. It hurts. But it's not terrible. Yuri's gone through worse in training. He's skated on worse in competition, and there he doesn't have Victor moving him around while he just tries to force his body to relax. Even if this is a different kind of pain, not that of hard work or a sudden injury but inside him. It makes him hold his breath in his lungs a couple of times to try and get a handle on it instead of letting his brain get upset about it.

"You look so good like this," Victor murmurs in Russian. Yuri doesn't know if he's trying to pretend to be a sponsor or if he means it, and that's an oddly distressing thought. He steals a glance at Victor's face, and decides that his half-closed eyes and concentrated expression mean that he's just saying it.

Yuri glances down, too, watches for a few seconds at Victor rolls his hips up into him, and then closes his eyes again. His body's too hot; what Victor's doing feels both good and unpleasant. Yuri's not entirely sure what to do with the sparks of pleasure building up inside of him. It takes enough of his concentration to hold on to Victor and half-heartedly try to move with him instead of being a limp doll he's pushing around. Doing something makes it better, even if he's not moving himself very much.

Victor keeps breathing out these soft, restrained moans, and Yuuri noses at the back of his neck, sometimes pressing his lips to it. It's ticklish and makes Yuri shiver, the feeling going down his spine to his cock. Yuuri's hands drift from his waist and start to wander, and just when Yuri feels like he's starting to get the hang of rocking with Victor, Yuuri's fingers start to stroke him and it takes some of the strength from his thighs.

The dick inside of him still stings, but being touched like this feels _way_ better. Yuri swears, louder than he probably should – hell, it's not like the Katsukis are going to understand or care about some Russian words. Victor shushes him with a kiss, a short one. They're both panting now, and it's only a moment before they break it at the same time to breathe.

"Come on," Victor mutters in his ear. "You're so pretty, pretty, you feel amazing, Yura."

Yuri hates feeling unsure about the compliments again, and he wishes he could kick Victor and make him stop saying them. But he can't, so he shoves his head into Victor's neck and tries to ignore the words. Didn't Victor say something about that? It feels like hours ago now.

Yuuri's grip tightens on him, and he gets the rhythm Yuri likes better than Victor did, and of course there's still Victor inside of him, both aching and good. Yuri bites the collar of Victor's shirt to make sure he stays quiet when he feels himself on the edge, and then for a minute he's just shuddering and satisfied, somewhere blank and far away from the idea of sponsorships and practice.

He blinks it away when he starts to comes down. Victor's still thrusting into him, far less pleasant now that it seems like every nerve in Yuri's body can feel it. He bites his lip.

Yuri wishes again that he could ask to stop for a minute, but if they were really his sponsors, they wouldn't have to. From what he's heard, they probably wouldn't. What with this being practice for them and not real sex, Yuri's not sure Victor would.

Victor does kind of pause, but only to pull at his shirt. Yuri gets it; he tries to undo the tie, but his fingers fumble it and Yuuri reaches around him to do it instead. Victor's skin is slick with sweat and the shirt slides off of him easily; Yuri grabs it and hastily cleans his own come from Victor's chest, before tossing the shirt wherever.

Behind him, Yuuri's getting hard again. He's pressed up against him so closely that Yuri can feel it. He tries to lean away – not that he can't take both of them tonight, he can, he's strong enough for that, he only needs a moment to catch his breath and stop feeling so much – but that gets him Victor shoving him down just as he thrusts up into him. The contact's too much and it hurts; Yuri winces and gasps, while Victor muffles a moan against his throat.

Victor starts holding him more tightly. An arm around the dip of his back, one draped over his shoulders to bury a hand in his hair. At least he's shut up. Yuri winces again as his pace speeds up, but that must mean he's getting closer. And then he can just do whatever it is Yuuri wants and then they'll be done and he can go to sleep.

When Victor comes, his grip turns incredibly tight, almost bruising, as he pushes into him a last few times and then stops. Yuri makes a face at being held like that, since nobody can see it, and takes the opportunity to do his best to relax and breathe a little until Victor sits back and blinks at him.

He has one of his dopey smiles on. "Wow," he says, and he leans into kiss Yuri's cheek. And then he looks over Yuri's shoulder and says, "Yuuri, did you want to—"

Yuri interrupts him by clambering up and turning around himself, tired of being dragged around. He's pretty sure the answer is yeah, Yuuri wants to fuck him or at least have Yuri stroke him off or something. (He's definitely not using his mouth again; it still aches from earlier.)

Victor grabs him around the waist again anyway, pulling him back against him like they were back when Yuuri was kissing him, ages ago. Yuuri's face is almost as red as Victor's, and when he peers at Yuri and starts to open his mouth, Yuri says, "I'm _fine_. What do you want?" He's ready to get it over with.

"Be nice," Victor chides, tugging on a lock of his hair. Yuri elbows him in response, which gets his hair tugged again, harder.

"It's fine, Victor," Yuuri says, and Victor stops pulling. "Although you should probably say it more nicely to sponsors, Yurio."

Yuri huffs and puts on his best bullshitting press conference voice. "Mr. Yuuri, what is it that you would like to do with me?"

Yuuri laughs at that, which makes Yuri smile, and then he touches Yuri's knees. Yuri reluctantly starts to open them, but can't seem to get his brain to really part them; Yuuri has to pull them the rest of the way open so he can move between them.

Victor's apparently unable to not fuss, because he hooks a hand under one of Yuri's knees and makes him put it up on Yuuri's shoulder, then does the same for the other side until Yuri's bent in half between them, unable to move. He's flexible, so it's not a difficult position, but it's kind of weird and vulnerable to be folded around Yuuri like this, open to his touch when Yuuri reaches down to pull his hips up. More practice, Yuri thinks, swallowing down the discomfort.

Yuuri hesitates a moment, sliding a hand along Yuri's thigh like he's not sure if he's ready. Before Yuri can bark at him, though, eager to at least get this _done_ , Yuuri repositions him again and starts to push his cock in.

He does it slower than Victor did, eases into him partway and then most of the way out again a couple of times. It's nicer – it doesn't hurt at all this time – but it also makes Yuri so impatient he wants to scream. Instead, he grinds his teeth together, forehead bowed against Yuuri's shoulder.

Victor pokes him in the cheek until he drops his head back. "You should look more cheerful! Or at least like it's not a chore. Aren't you enjoying yourself? It's good if you can learn to pretend."

Yuuri slows down to a pace that just reminds Yuri of how stupidly big Yuuri feels inside of him, looking concerned again, eyebrows furrowing, so for his sake, Yuri says, "It feels fine."

"Fine? You can do better than that."

"It feels _good_ ," he grits out.

"There you go," says Victor. "Now tell him, not me."

God, is this a sponsorship thing or his fucking jealousy? Victor's the one with the thing for pretty words, not Yuri, and they both know it. Yuri tries to turn his head away, but Victor grabs his chin and doesn't let him.

Yuuri does a nice job of looking very serious, like he's an actual sponsor and not a crybaby who struggles to land his jumps. "I like it," Yuri says, in an awkward flat tone he's too tired to attempt to correct. "You, um, it feels good."

It puts a strange look on Yuuri's face, like he thinks that what Yuri's saying is funny and uncomfortable at the same time, and then he's being kissed a moment later, Yuuri pressing their lips together. Maybe to save them both from this embarrassing endeavor before Victor decides to make him get detailed or beg or something.

Yuuri kisses him hard and also starts to fuck him harder, and something in Yuri's body – his knee, his back, he's not sure what – aches from being folded and jarred like this. There's nothing to do but put up with it, though, and he puts his arms around Yuuri's neck, silently encouraging him to hurry up. This harder pace is less good, though each thrust still sends heat back into Yuri's stomach, and maybe it'll be over faster now.

Victor presses his lips to Yuri's neck and makes a considering hum. His hands drift across Yuri's skin. One comes up to adjust his leg on Yuuri's shoulder when it starts to slip, then traces down his knee, strokes his inner thigh, and settles on his cock.

Yuri jumps at the contact. Yeah, he's half-hard again, because his body's responding, because – it's sex, that's what it's supposed to do, and he probably should be more excited than this about getting to get off again, instead of having this strange twist in his stomach. It's fine. Let Victor get him off if he wants to. It'll feel good.

"Cute," Victor mutters in his ear. Yuri doesn't know if it's in reaction to anything in particular or if he's just saying it.

It's harder to muffle the sounds from his mouth this time around. Before Yuri gets it together to release one of his arms from his vice grip on Yuuri, Victor covers his mouth for him. For a moment his hand is too near his nose, too, and he can't breathe and shaking his head doesn't dislodge Victor and he's about to pry him off, but Victor apparently gets the message and drops most of his hand to shove a few fingers into his mouth instead.

What the hell? He's too tried to figure out why Victor's being a weirdo anymore, although when he swallows around them, Victor shudders and Yuri suddenly wonders if he's going to want to fuck him _again_ after Yuuri's had his turn. If they're going to keep passing him back and forth all night until he's completely wrung out, and that's a scary – no, he can deal with anything they throw at him, but he hates the thought.

Yuuri shifts them, changing the angle, making Yuri feel off-balance for a minute. Victor nuzzles into his hair and strokes him, harder, better than earlier, and Yuuri keeps fucking him and Yuri is never going to be able to stand jokes about stamina again.

He bites down on Victor's fingers when he feels himself getting close, not hard but along his molars, and Victor draws in a breath and doesn't take them out. He bites again when he comes across his own chest, he thinks, though with everything all white and gone it's hard to really tell.

The orgasm itself is okay, if not a particularly great one. It leaves him feeling exhausted, but Yuuri's still inside him and god, was there that much of him before? Yuri tries to wriggle away before he quite gets all his thoughts back together, though of course he doesn't get anywhere. He's trapped there between them.

He squeezes his eyes shut, but that just makes the feeling of _too much_ worse, so he opens them again and blinks back some wateriness. Almost done. Yuuri _has_ to be finished soon.

But Yuuri keeps going and _going_ , rubbing Yuri's nerves raw until he feels like he is going to scream, or at least start biting on Victor's fingers in earnest, when Yuuri moans softly and changes his pace again.

He shoves his head into the crook of Yuri's shoulder, which isn't comfortable but that's his least concern right now. When he finishes, he shudders hard and sinks deep into him but doesn't give him new bruises like Victor, at least.

Yuri wants to separate them right away, but he has to wait until Yuuri eventually leans back, reaching up to rub at his eyes behind his glasses, and disentangles them. It hurts to unfold again, more sharply than whatever had been aching from holding himself like that. Yuri forces his legs straight despite the pain and pushes himself off of Victor so he can collapse to the bed.

He is _not_ doing that again, though if Victor really wanted to, he could probably drag Yuri up and take him anyway. But he doesn't. He lets Yuri flop down and rest an arm over his face.

It hurts in his spine and in his thighs and between his legs, and even work-outs have never taken everything out of him in this way, from every limb and from the inside of him, too, leaving him both exhausted and tender. He never wants to move again.

He's so tired he can't find the energy to react when someone – Yuuri, that's his murmuring voice – swipes a cloth across his face and chest. The touch is more reluctant when it draw lower down; Yuri doesn't want anyone to touch him there right now, but it also feels disgusting, sweat and lube and come, so he grabs Yuuri's hand and pushes it down his thigh without looking before dropping back to the covers. He doesn't let himself think about what Yuuri's doing.

When he's done, Yuuri lays down on one side of him, and Victor's still against the headboard on his other side, stroking Yuri's hair. That's not so bad.

"You'll do fine," Victor says, his voice low and slow. "Just remember to be nice even if you want to punch them. Look cute."

"Don't tell them no," Yuuri adds from the other side, his voice muffled by the bed or a pillow or whatever.

"Sometimes you can say no to something, but you have to do it right."

"If you say it the right way. Usually you have to do something else instead."

"Don't let them try and talk you into fucking you in your costumes."

His eyes are closed, but Yuri rolls them anyway. "I'm not stupid." He knows how much those things cost.

"Even if they say they'll have it cleaned or pay for a new one if they ruin it. Don't. Let them dress you up in something else if you have to."

"Do a lot of the Russian sponsors like the team jackets?" Yuuri asks, quiet.

"Yeah, and...."

Maybe there's more advice, or maybe they start to talk quietly about their own experiences, which could be its own advice; but Yuri doesn't hear any more, falling asleep to Victor's fingers petting his hair.

When Victor wakes him in the morning, Yuuri's gone. Yuri still hurts everywhere, but he ignores it and gets up. They jog to the rink and practice hard and they don't refer to what happened last night, though sometimes Yuuri keeps giving him these looks and then not quite meeting his gaze.

\---

Technically, he's not supposed to start sponsorships until the season rolls over at the beginning of July. In practice, he gets his first one in early May.

The amount of money seems oddly high, even for a 'pretty-looking' rising star doing this for the first time, and he realizes why when three men turn up in the hotel room.

One of them wants his mouth, and the other two both fuck him. It's a really good thing he practiced beforehand; it's still overwhelming, but at least now he knows from experience that he can do it, that he can let them pull him around and push his legs open and push down the heaviness in his stomach and not feel like he's going to go crazy.

But they don't look at him with concern like Yuuri did and he can't argue with them like he did with Victor. They give him as many weird compliments as Victor did and fifty more and they make his skin crawl. It's a struggle to keep his mouth shut the whole time and not complain or respond to them; at least they don't try to make him tell them how good they are in bed. They aren't mean, but they take and they take and they don't care about him like Victor and Yuuri did.

Afterward, they leave seeming satisfied, and Yuri stares at the hotel ceiling until he can collect himself enough to drag his body into the shower and then into a taxi home. He slips down the fancy hallway of Lilia's apartment and drops exhausted onto his own bed next to a curled-up Potya.

There. First senior sponsorship done. He's doing great. He's earning his own way in the world.

He thinks of Victor petting his hair again and then wonders why he's thinking about it. He pets Potya instead, then drags out his laptop to play a game and forget about the rest of the day. His body aches, like last time – maybe more than last time – but that's fine. That's normal. They all have to go through this. Yuri's stronger than the rest of them, so he can definitely handle it; a few more months until the season begins, and he'll show everyone.


End file.
